"I, too, was wondering—wondering what you were dreaming of as you slept, for you should be asleep at this hour, your highness, instead of standing out there in the rain."
"Baldos," she called down tremulously, "you don't like this work, do you?"
"It has nothing but darkness in it for me. I never see the light of your eyes. I never feel the—"
"Sh! You must not talk like that. It's not proper, and besides someone may be listening. The night has a thousand ears—or is it eyes? But listen: to-morrow you shall be restored to your old duties. You surely cannot believe that I had anything to do with the order which compels you to work at this unholy hour."
"I was afraid you were punishing me for my boldness. My heart has been sore—you never can know how sore. I was disgraced, dismissed, forgotten—"
"No, no—you were not! You must not say that. Go away now, Baldos. You will ride with me to-morrow," she cried nervously. "Please go to some place where you won't get dripping wet."
"You forget that I am on guard," he said with a laugh. "But you are a wise counsellor. Is the rain so pleasant to you?"
"I have an umbrella," she protested. "What are you doing?" she cried in alarm. He was coming hand over hand, up the trellis-work that enclosed the lower verandah.
"I am coming to a place where I won't get dripping wet," he called softly. There was a dangerous ring in his voice and she drew back in a panic.
"You must not!" she cried desperately. "This is madness! Go down, sir!"